


As Long As I Live

by writerchick0214



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Kind of AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerchick0214/pseuds/writerchick0214
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl and Glenn meet by chance three years before the apocalypse. Against all odds they make it work. That is until people start eating each other and they have to survive in a whole new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Ok everyone. This is going to be a long one, possibly broken up into numerous multi chapter stories. It begins with Daryl and Glenn meeting three years before the apocalypse and progresses into season 1, 2, etc. Major plot points will (most likely) remain fairly similar but I will be taking extreme liberties with the show and comic's story line.
> 
> Title is from the song of the same title by Johnny Cash and Emmylou Harris. Listen to it…it is magic. I've heard a few versions of the song and I'm ashamed to say I'm unsure which is the original but I like this version the best. The song actually inspired a lot of this story so I would highly recommend listening.

Glenn stared down at the bill in his hand, a big, red OVER DUE stamp plastered over the front. There were at least a dozen envelopes like that splayed across the table, many of them final notices and warning of legal action to come. He was neck deep in debt and just getting deeper as the days went by. With a groan Glenn's shoulders sagged in defeat and for the briefest of moments he thought he may cry. Glenn was already working seven days at Eddie's Pizza as a deliver driver and had recently picked up a shift at the drug store down the street which gave him an extra twenty hours a week but every paycheck seemed to be gone the same day he got it.

Asking his parents for help was out of the question and he didn't think he could manage another job with his night classes so that left only one option; find a roommate. Glenn's apartment was small and technically only one bedroom but there was a very large storage closet that could be turned into a minimally functioning sleeping area. There was no way he could get away with charging much but any help would be useful and Glenn would be lying if he said the company would be unwelcome. Finding someone to live in his piece of shit apartment would most likely be a challenge. The closet was large enough for a bed and a dresser and not much else but for someone who really needed a roof over their head it would look like a palace.

The internet was shut off weeks ago but Glenn's cellphone was miraculously still in service so he placed the ad on craigslist before he could second-guess himself. In the past he had always made fun of people who found lodging via craigslist, assuming everyone online was crazy but desperate times called for desperate measures. Glenn kept the ad short and sweet, leaving his cell number and specifying he was looking to fill the room "ASAP". It was just after midnight and Glenn had to be up in seven hours so he plugged his phone in to charge and went about his nightly ritual, hoping he hadn't just made a terrible mistake.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
When Glenn woke there were eight messages left on his phone, all of them inquiries about the room. Slightly fazed Glenn called them all back but only agreed to meet with two of them; a twenty-five year old Grad student named Beth and a twenty year old guy named Jason, both of whom had steady income, seemed nice and didn't care where they slept. Glenn had an hour break between his shift at the corner store and the one at the pizza place so they were meeting him at a coffee shop, both agreeing to a group interview. He had never been to the cafe but customers told him repeatedly how amazing the coffee was.

The day passed uneventfully and agonizingly slow, Glenn's phone going off every so often with requests to meet. No one struck his interest, however, so he was forced to lie and say he had already picked a roommate. A total of five customers came during his six hour shift, all of them regulars, and when the clock struck two Glenn left the store as quickly as possible, practically sprinting the five blocks to the coffee shop. Turns out Beth was always prompt and prepared, already waiting for him without a single hair out of place, and Jason was twenty minutes late.

Glenn didn't like that.

By the end of the interview Glenn wasn't happy with either of them; Beth seemed like a neat freak-which Glenn was not-and Jason appeared unreliable. He thanked them both and said he would be in touch but Beth gave him a look on her way out that said she knew he wouldn't be. Frustrated, Glenn bought another cup of coffee he couldn't afford, ready to leave when the man behind the counter stopped him.

"You lookin' fer a roommate?" He had a deep southern accent. The kind you found in the country, not Atlanta.

"I am." Glenn nodded, really looking at the man. He was the same guy who had made Glenn's first coffee.

Glenn wasn't sure how he had overlooked him.

The barista was older than Glenn that much was obvious, but Glenn was having difficulty pinpointing his exact age. The man-Daryl, his nametag read-had the bluest eyes Glenn had ever seen, crows feet gently framing them. Daryl's mouth turned up in a smirk and Glenn found himself immediately drawn to the prominent beauty mark above his lip. Glenn realized he was staring when Daryl cleared his throat, looking at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry-what?"

"I asked 'how much'?" Daryl was leaning against the counter, face still cocky but his body language was screaming awkwardness.

Glenn found it endearing.

"Oh." Glenn stared a second longer, distracted by the man's facial hair, before answering, "It's only fifty dollars a week."

"What's wrong with tha place?" Daryl asked, wiping the counter down with the towel that had been draped over his shoulder. "That's might cheap fer the city."

"It's technically a storage space," Glenn explained, sipping his coffee. "Big enough for the basic necessities but it's nothing special. I'm just really desperate for some extra cash."

Daryl was quiet for a while, staring at Glenn with an intensity that made the younger man fidget.

"Can I come check tha place out? Imma bit desperate m'self."

Daryl went back to work before Glenn could answer, making some mint frappe nonsense for a woman with large, fake breasts and far too much makeup on. She looked Daryl up and down, licking her lips and batting her eyelashes, but he only shoved the drink in her hands and turned away. Daryl seemed completely unaware of the blatant flirting.

"I get off work at eleven. Is that too late?"

"Naw that's fine. Where should I meet you?"

"Do you know where Eddie's Pizza is?" Daryl nodded. "That's where I work so you could just come there when I get off. I don't have a car, though."

"Don' worry, kid," Daryl said, throwing a few things in the trash without looking.

His aim was perfect.

"I can give you a ride."

TBC....


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's chapter two! I wanted to thank Ihasabukkit (on FF.net) for all of your help! Seriously, without your kind words and encouragement I couldn't have finished this chapter. Please, I've said it before but go read Three Trees because its rad as hell. Also want thank everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited and followed. It is really appreciated and I'm sorry I've been slacking on PMing my readers who do review. Life has been hectic!

Unlike at the convenience store Glenn's shift at the pizzeria was hectic; he delivered more pizzas than he could count, made a measly ten bucks in tips and lost the keys to the scooter provided by the store. Thankfully the owner had spares but Glenn was pretty sure the cost to make a new set would come out of his paycheck. On top of that Glenn was nervous about meeting with Daryl again. There was something dangerous about the older man yet he was so awkward it was almost laughable. Glenn wasn't sure if he should hug Daryl or run in the opposite direction.

Glenn stood outside under a street light for ten minutes alternating between wishing Daryl would hurry up and hoping he didn't show at all. Biting at his bottom lip Glenn watched an old, noisy pickup truck pull up and stop, Daryl's body slouched comfortably behind the wheel. Hesitantly Glenn approached the truck, pulling at the door only to find it immovable.

"Gotta put some muscle intuh it, kid!" Daryl yelled voice muffled behind the closed windows.

Blushing furiously Glenn gripped the handle in both hands, using his entire body as leverage. Finally it opened with a loud groan and for a second Glenn was afraid it might fall off completely. When he was sitting and buckled in Glenn turned to see Daryl shaking his head chuckling under his breath. Making fun of him. Glenn resisted the urge to huff indignantly opting to give directions to his apartment instead. The trip was silent save for some southern rock playing on the radio, a band Glenn had never heard of singing about his truck or his dog or something. Glenn wasn't really paying attention, focusing on the way Daryl kept bringing the fingers of his right hand up to his mouth, nibbling on the skin there. He looked as nervous as Glenn felt. Now that they were in close proximity Glenn noticed that Daryl smelled slightly of musk and sweat and some kind of body spray-Axe, maybe, Glenn couldn't be certain. It wasn't necessarily a pleasant smell but it wasn't completely repulsive either and Glenn wondered absently when the man had showered last.

"What're you lookin' at?" Daryl growled and Glenn realized he had been staring.

"No-nothing." Glenn stammered out, ducking his head so his face was shielded by the yellow brim of his hat.

Daryl parallel parked amazingly well considering the size of his truck and how painfully obvious it was that he wasn't from the city; with one hand on the wheel and the other arm slung across the back of Glenn's seat the older man swung the vehicle into the small parking spot without taking his eyes off the rear windshield. He glanced up at the big brick building then at Glenn and yeah, it wasn't the nicest apartment building around. Some of the exterior bricks were missing and almost all of the fire escapes were so rundown they weren't useable, not to mention the cigarette butts littering the front entryway. Surprisingly Daryl didn't mention any of these flaws as he exited the truck, walking around to the curb while Glenn attempted to open his door. When it again refused to budge Daryl smirked and yanked it open in one try, walking to the stoup without a word.

More than a little embarrassed Glenn made his way to Daryl, head down until he had to look up to punch in the door code; the code had been the same since Glenn moved in two years ago and according to his neighbors it hadn't been changed in longer than that, which basically defeated the purpose. Half the people in the city could probably enter the building at that point. Glenn held the door open and gestured for Daryl to enter first, the older man eyeing the flower patterned carper. The building smelled like dust and spices. An Indian couple lived on the first floor and every day when they cooked it stunk up the first four levels. Daryl's nose crinkled against the overpowering smell immediately, looking around for the offending stench.

Glenn chuckled.

"Don't worry I'm on the sixth floor. You can't smell it up that high."

Daryl nodded but didn't respond otherwise. Glenn pushed the button to call the elevator, listening to the machinery moan and groan as it came to life. When the door creaked open Daryl poked his head inside, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He looked at the space skeptically and Glenn couldn't blame him; the elevator was tiny-he could stand in the middle and touch the walls when he spread his arms out-and extremely outdated.

"It doesn't work more often than it does, but it's safe enough." Glenn explained, stepping inside to hit the worn out "6" button.

For a moment he didn't think Daryl would follow but the older man stepped in as the door started to close, leaning against the back wall and looking at the floor.

"The elevator goes out like, a lot, for weeks at a time sometimes, so if you have anything against stairs…" Glenn trailed off hoping he hadn't just scared him away.

The elevator jerked alarmingly and Glenn pretended not to notice when Daryl gripped the handrail tightly.

"Think I'd rather take the stairs."

Glenn chuckled good-naturedly

"Yeah, I've been stuck on this thing more than once. But carting groceries up six flights of stairs isn't my idea of fun."

Daryl eyed him, looking Glenn up and down before his lips twitched with what Glenn assumed was a smile.

"That's 'cause yer scrawny as hell, kid." He poked Glenn's arm. "Probably never done manual labor in yer life."

Glenn took too long to think of a response because Daryl was right, he'd never done any heavy lifting before, and by the time he had something smart to say they were on his floor. Daryl stepped out quickly taking in his surroundings. Glenn dug his keys out of his back pocket and brushed past Daryl to stand in front of his door, the big "62" sign ready to fall off but he had never been a handy man, so to speak, and the landlord never came to fix things unless absolutely necessary. As soon as the door was open Glenn winced, belatedly remembering the state he had left the apartment in. The table was still covered in his overdue bills, sad reminders of the dire situation he was in, dirty dishes were piled in the sink and pizza boxes and cans of mountain dew littered the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Sorry about the mess." Glenn apologized, turning to face Daryl.

The older man entered the apartment with a raised eyebrow, immediately making his way through the entryway. Through the door was a long, narrow hallway that lead to the rest of the apartment; Glenn's bedroom on the right, tiny kitchen and even smaller dining area to the left, living room straight back and through there was the storage space slash second bedroom. Daryl trailed his fingers along the wall as he walked, casually eyeing the movie posters lining the hallway. He glanced quickly into Glenn's bedroom which wasn't too messy before continuing on, stopping to check out the kitchen. Glenn remained silent the entire time trying to gauge Daryl's reaction but the only man kept his expression neutral, eyes hard and lips set in a tight line. When they reached the living room Daryl whistled at the large flat screen TV (one of the only nice things Glenn owned), seating himself on the couch, boot-clad feet propped up on the coffee table without permission.

"Nice setup you got here, chink."

"I-what?" Glenn blinked a few times, startled.

"You heard me." Daryl stared at Glenn with a glint in his eyes, daring Glenn to say something.

Glenn took the bait.

"Look dude, you can't be pullin' that shit, calling me chink. This isn't the trailer park."

As soon as the words left his mouth Glenn froze in fear, watching the way Daryl's muscles tensed. They stayed like that for what felt like forever, Glenn holding his breath.

"You got some balls fer a Chinaman."

Glenn gave him an odd look. "I'm Korean."

Daryl merely shrugged and stood.

"Whatever," He said, moving to stand next to Glenn. "So where would I be sleeping?"

Glenn didn't move for a second feeling totally thrown. Daryl was looking at him expectantly, almost innocently as if he hadn't just thrown a racial slur at Glenn and he had to literally shake himself out of his stupor. Throwing an apology over his shoulder while he strode over to the closet he slid the door to the left, grateful he hadn't used the storage space for anything other than his bicycle and an old TV. Daryl shoved his way passed Glenn into the room moving from wall to wall more than once, taking in the space (or lack thereof).

"I know there's no window," Glenn said, leaning against the doorway, "but I have one of those air filters you could have, at least freshen it up in here a bit."

Daryl ran the back of his hand under his nose and sniffed, nodding his head repeatedly to his own thoughts. When he dug his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a few twenties Glenn was more than a little shocked. He spluttered when the bills were shoved in to his hand-he counted one hundred dollars-and gazed at Daryl in a daze. For a half a second Daryl looked unsure.

"There's two week's pay. Can I move in now?"

"What?" Glenn swallowed thickly, brain still moving too slowly. "Yeah, sure. I-you want to move in now? Like, now, now?"

"Why not? All my shit's down in the truck, I got the money an' you got the space."

Glenn couldn't argue with that logic.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
Daryl had four boxes of who knows what, two garbage bags full of clothes, an old turn table, and two milk crates of records, a mysterious black duffle bag, and a crossbow. Glenn had done a double take when he saw that but with one glare from the redneck kept his questions at bay.

"You don't have a bed." Glenn pointed out stupidly.

"No shit, kid." Daryl didn't look away from his crossbow which he was meticulously cleaning where he sat on the floor of his new room.

"Well…" Glenn looked around as if a bed would magically appear. "Where are you going to sleep?"

Daryl patted the hardwood under him. "Right here. Where do'ya think I'm sleepin'?"

"I just…" Glenn trailed off. "It looks uncomfortable." He shuffled from foot to foot.

"Trust me, Chinaman I've slept in worse places."

Glenn was curious but chose not to comment.

"Well you're more than welcome to crash on the couch until you get a bed."

The room was silent for longer than Glenn was comfortable with. Daryl was looking at him with a half shocked half annoyed look on his face.

Daryl never did respond but when Glenn got up to get a glass of water a few hours later he found Daryl sprawled out on the couch, an old blanket long fallen off his body and lying in a heap on the floor.  
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Daryl was sitting on the couch wide awake when Glenn stumbled out of his room. The TV was off and Daryl was just sitting quietly browsing through what looked like a hunting magazine. He looked up when he noticed Glenn, nodding his head in greeting. Glenn grunted in response, grabbing a bowl of cereal before taking a seat next to Daryl.

"Mind if I turn the TV on?" Glenn asked voice still thick with sleep.

"Go ahead kid. Yer place."

"Our place," Glenn corrected.

"Whatever you say."

If Daryl thought Saturday morning cartoons were immature he didn't say anything.

"So how old are you?" Glenn blurted out some twenty minutes later. They hadn't said a single word to each other and Glenn was beginning to itch with the awkwardness of it all.

"'Scuse me?" Daryl finally looked away from his magazine, turning his body slightly away from Glenn's.

"I was just curious. You're older than me but I have no idea-"

"-Thirty-two." Daryl interrupted. "What about you pipsqueak?"

Glenn flushed at the nickname. "Twenty-two."

"You don' mind livin' with an old man?" There wasn't a smile on Daryl's face but Glenn could see the humor glinting in his eyes.

"You're only ten years older than me, I wouldn't exactly call that old."

"Sure feel it sometimes." Daryl stretched his arms over his head, bones cracking as if to prove a point.

"So why'd you need a place so badly?" Glenn asked.

Daryl looked sharply at him.

"None a yer damn business," Daryl snapped, lip curling in a snarl.

Glenn almost jumped.

"Sorry, sorry." He held his hands up defensively. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Jus' needed a place, ok? Been sleepin' in the damn truck few a few weeks, was worried my shit would get stolen while I'm workin' or something."

"Do you like working at the coffee shop?" Glenn attempted to change the subject.

"Hell naw, kid. I hate that place but gotta make money, you know?"

Glenn scoffed. "Oh yeah, I know. I'm obviously desperate for it."

"What? Can't run to mommy and daddy fer help?" Daryl taunted.

"How about you don't talk about things you know nothing about?" Glenn snapped, suddenly furious.

Daryl sat up straighter and a vein bulged in his neck.

"You know," Daryl said slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I've knocked guy's teeth out fer less. You best watch who yer talkin' to, kid."

"And you best mind your manners if you're going to be living here. I won't take your shit." Glenn's palms were sweaty and he thought for sure he was about to get a fist to the face.

"Fer such a nerdy lookin' chink you sure do talk a big game. Gotta teach you to back that bark up, huh? You ever been in a fight?" Daryl was smiling now, just the slightest turn to his lips.

Glenn was again struck by how quickly Daryl's mood seemed to change.

"No, not really." Glenn shook his head. "Not a fist fight, if that's what you mean."

Daryl's smirk was kind of terrifying.

"Oh kid, you have so much to learn."

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If the characters were mine Glenn would be with Daryl, not Maggie. Case closed.
> 
> Not BETAed, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> A/N: Please review and let me know what you think! I love feedback, constructive criticism, comments and suggestions.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who's read, reviewed, favorited and followed this story. I've gotten an overwhelmingly great response for this fic...I'm kind of overwhelmed. I promise to try to update faster from now on. A special thanks to minutecloser2failing and Ihasabukkit for all your support and for pushing me to keep going...and for the ego boost!
> 
> Not edited or ran past my BETA so all mistakes are my own and there are probably a few. Please feel free to point them out.
> 
> Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own TWD. The comics and show would be much, much different if I did

Chapter Three

Every day for a week Daryl came home from work with grocery bags full of stuff; toiletries for the bathroom, food for the cupboards and beer for the fridge. He drank Pabst Blue Ribbon which Glenn thought tasted like watered down piss but Daryl insisted was an American Classic and infinitely better than any 'prissy beers'. Glenn now knew Daryl was taking daily showers-the man left puddles that soaked Glenn's socks every time-but Daryl still looked dirty. There always seemed to be a thin sheen of sweat and a dusting of dirt covering Daryl's arms and face but he smelled clean, like soap and the woods on a rainy day. Daryl still didn't have a bed so every night they sat together on the couch, bare feet kicked up on the table, beers in hand watching whatever sucked the least on television.

"So," Glenn said sitting up straight, "you have any siblings, Daryl?"

"Got a brother." Daryl didn't look away from the TV but Glenn saw the way his eyebrows furrowed.

"Older or younger?"

"Older, by 'bout ten years. Name's Merle."

"Merle?" Glenn snorted on a laugh, trying to smother it when Daryl glared at him. "Sorry, sorry. So. Merle, where is he?"

"Who knows." Daryl shrugged. "Jail? Drinkin' himself stupid? Could be anywhere."

Glenn watched Daryl, trying to determine if the older man was joking or not. When Daryl stood to stalk to the kitchen Glenn decided he didn't seem the joking type and wished he could take back the entire conversation. Daryl's face was hard and closed off, jaw clenched so tightly Glenn thought for sure he could hear his teeth grinding together. Once Daryl reached the fridge he pulled out a beer and downed it in one go belching as he pulled out another.

"I'm sorry." Glenn apologized and he meant it.

The can in his hand crinkled loudly in his grip.

Daryl didn't say a word as he sat back down next to Glenn, cracked his neck.

"Stop sayin' yer sorry all the time, Kid."

"Sorry-" Glenn winced and cut himself off.

"You keep apologizin' to everyone they're just gonna walk all over you."

Glenn was too ashamed to admit aloud that people already did. Instead he said, "I shouldn't have pressed."

When Daryl's third beer was halfway done he set it down, completely ignoring the coaster and just when Glenn was about to chastise him for it Daryl grabbed his wrist. The grip was tight and almost painful but Glenn didn't pull away, only flexed his fingers, testing their range of motion. Daryl was gazing at Glenn curiously, eyes squinted just enough to put his crow's feet on display. They stayed like that for what felt like forever, eyes locked and Glenn thought Daryl might say something snarky but the older man remained mum, dropped Glenn's arm, walked to his room and didn't come out for the rest of the night. Glenn sat on the couch for an hour trying to figure out what had just happened.

=================================================  
=================================================

Glenn was lonely. It was Friday night and he had come home to a dark, empty apartment and for the first time since Daryl had moved in the realized how much he had been craving the company. There wasn't a note (not that Glenn had expected one) but Daryl's things were still there so he could at least rule out the possibility that the older man had left completely. Usually the two of them would be drinking and lounging on the couch, a routine they picked up and stuck to even after living together only a few weeks. Bored already Glenn popped open one of Daryl's beers, digging his phone out of his pocket deciding to call up his oldest friend in the city.

"Hey man," Glenn spoke into the mouthpiece absently drinking his beverage. "Look, you want to go out tonight, grab a few beers?"

Glenn hopped up onto the counter, legs dangling lazily over the edge.

"You coming out of your cage, dude?" Brent chuckled over the line.

"Ha. Ha. I have to work unlike you, asshole." Glenn laughed through the harsh words.

"Not my fault I'm a trust-fund baby." Brent yelled at someone in the background, words muffled. "Come out tonight and drinks are on me. I even have someone I could hook you up with."

Glenn groaned. "No more blind dates, dude. Last time you ditched me with a fucking baby."

"The ID said twenty-one, brother. I can't be blamed for a really good fake."

There was a short pause during which Glenn contemplated.

"You can pick the bar but no blind date. Deal?"

"Yeah, yeah. Deal. Meet me at that place on 2nd in an hour." Without a goodbye Brent hung up with a soft click leaving Glenn in the silence.

An hour later Glenn found himself seated at the bar waiting on Brent, one shot and half a beer in. Loud, indie music blared throughout the cramped room and people were chattering all over the place but Glenn kept to himself, fingering the peeling label on his Heineken. A hand on his shoulder startled Glenn enough to make him jump, turning to see Brent's wild red hair and shit-eating grin. The man's mouth was all teeth, big and white and perfectly straight.

"G-man!" Brent yelled loudly, squeezing onto the stool between Glenn and a large woman wearing a shirt that just didn't fit. "How's it hanging?"

===================================  
===================================

"So tell me about the new roommate of yours," Brent inquired a few too many beers later, signaling the bartender for another round of shots.

"He's…" Glenn trailed off trying to think of a way to describe Daryl. He took a long swallow from his bottle. "Daryl is different."

"What do you mean, 'different'?" Brent asked, sliding a shot glass in front of Glenn.

They clanked their glasses together-toasting to something stupid like their fallen homies-and knocked them back. Glenn relished in the burn, could feel the tequila slide all the way to his belly. It had been a while since he last drank and Glenn was already a little lightheaded, buzzing comfortable.

"I don't know, man," Glenn continued, "he's quiet and kind of shy, but he's probably the scariest dude I've ever met."

"It's always the quiet ones you need to worry about G-man!" Brent crowed, nudging Glenn with his elbow. Glenn laughed and shoved him back.

"So this guy is willingly living in your closet?" Brent was giggling now, his face turning an amusing shade of pink. "Must be some kind of loser."

Glenn felt a strange surge of anger.

"Don't call him that," Glenn snapped feeling as shocked as Brent looked. "He's a good guy, Brent don't put him down."

Brent's smile faded slowly as it dawned on him that Glenn wasn't messing around. His face was still flushed but he looked more confused than angry. Even though Glenn knew he shouldn't be mad at Brent-he barely knew Daryl, after all-he couldn't help but feel protective of his roommate. Brent reached for one of the small, square bar napkins, unfolding it with a quick flick of his wrist and with a smirk he waved it in the air like a flag of surrender.

"Sorry bro, I didn't mean anything by it. I was just trying to crack a joke…didn't realize you two were tight yet."

"I don't-we're not-" Glenn dragged his hat off his head in frustration, fingering the worn edges. "I wouldn't say we're tight. He just seems like a decent guy to me, even if he calls me chink all the time."

Brent stared at him for along moment before bursting into uncontrollable laughter, Glenn following soon after.

==========================  
==========================

Glenn was drunk.

He was ShitIdon'trememberwhichfloorIliveon drunk. A cab Glenn doesn't remember getting into dropped him off in front of his apartment building and he struggled for five (ten) minutes with the door code. Giggling like a teenage girl he entered the elevator and stared at the numbered buttons on the wall, the digits swimming and crisscrossing to the point where Glenn couldn't tell which was which so he pushed all of them, lighting them up like a Christmas tree. With a jerk the elevator set into motion, going up slowly and loudly, door opening and closing with each passing floor. Glenn curled around himself in the corner, staring at numbers blinking before him and almost missed when it was time to exit.

Glenn fumbled with his pockets trying to decipher which one his keys were in when he spotted him; Daryl was slumped up against their front door fast asleep, head lolling to the side. Snickering, the Asian man quietly approached his roommate, crouching down in front of Daryl to stare intently. He leaned in closer yet, squinting his eyes trying to focus his vision because Daryl had a block eye and a split lip and even in his sleep looked to be in pain. Daryl's shirt was rumbled more than usual, the first three buttons were popped off, nowhere to be seen and splatters of blood littered the collar. The older man's knuckles were bloody and swollen, curled into tight fists on his lap.

"Daryl." Glenn staged whispered, poking him on the shoulder.

The second Glenn touched Daryl was moving, grabbing Glenn in a headlock before his eyes were even open. Daryl's arms felt heavy around Glenn's neck, his breath coming in sharp gasps next to the younger man's ear and for a brief second Glenn panicked, trying to break free of the hold. Then the arm was gone and Daryl was on his feet refusing to meet Glenn's eye. Leery of Daryl's skittishness Glenn reached out slowly, just enough to brush his fingertips along the knuckles of one of Daryl's hands.

"You ok dude?" Glenn asked and winced at how slurred his words sounded.

"You drunk, Chinaman?" Daryl laughed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned in to peer at Glenn. "Look at how red yer face is!"

"Yeah, yeah," Glenn grinned and swayed on his feet. He attempted to school his features into a serious frown. "What happened to you?"

Daryl shrugged, "Got jumped on the way home. Took muh keys an' my wallet."

"You got jumped?" Glenn squeaked flailing his arms about, dropping his keys in the process.

Daryl bent down to retrieve them and Glenn didn't miss the wince of discomfort.

"Yeah kid, jumped. You know, like mugged, robbed?" Daryl squared his shoulders and unlocked the door only turning around when Glenn tripped over his own feet into the doorframe.

"But how?" Glenn asked gripping Daryl's forearm as the older man helped him into the apartment. "I mean just look at you!"

"What the hell're you talkin' about?" Daryl wrapped an arm around Glenn's waist to steady the drunk man.

"You!" Glenn stumbled again and laughed loudly, holding onto Daryl so he wouldn't fall down. "You just look mean."

"That's 'cause I am mean, kid." Daryl hiked Glenn up a little higher and led him towards Glenn's bedroom.

"No you're not. I mean yes, you can be, but really you're a good dude. But you look mean. Know what I mean?" Glenn rolled his head to the side and tucked his face into the crook of Daryl's neck. "And your arms are huge."

"My arms ain't huge kid, trust me." Daryl laughed and hauled Glenn through the threshold of the room.

"Ok well not huge, but look at them!" Glenn sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed one of Daryl's arms in both his hands. "They look strong. I wouldn't mess with you on the street. No way you got jumped by one dude."

Daryl pulled away abruptly, yanking his arm out of Glenn's grasp. His face hardened and his eyes crinkled as he glared at the other man.

"You don't know shit, chink so why don' you keep yer thoughts to yerself, huh?"

Glenn watched on wide-eyed as Daryl fled the room, slamming the door shut behind him

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review and let me know what you think. I appreciate any words you throw my way. Also, I hope my OC didn't turn anyone off of this story. In general I dislike OCs but he's necessary for the story. Normally in an AU I would just have an existing character be Glenn's friend but since this is only kind of, sort of an AU I couldn't do that.
> 
> Disclaimer 2: I sadly don't own the toast about fallen hommies. That's from "Crazy Stupid Love"


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the wait. I wrote this chapter but then came up with a plot point I wasn't planning on before. I had to drop hints the whole chapter and incorporating them was a PAIN, so I just rewrote the chapter. It took longer but it was easier.
> 
> Not BETAed so all mistakes are my own. My edit was very brief and there are probably a million mistakes. Feel free to point them out

When Glenn woke in the morning the first thing he noticed was how _bright_ everything was. Then the throbbing headache made itself known, followed by an uncomfortable churning in his stomach. Glenn groaned and rolled onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight. Last night was a blur, memories jumbled together in a strange collage of still frames that didn’t feel like his life. There was the bar, too many shots, Brent and—Daryl. Glenn shot up too fast, head spinning but he forced himself to remain upright, to edge out of bed slowly. He was unsteady on his feet but Glenn swallowed the urge to vomit as he made his way to the living room.

            Daryl was fast asleep on the couch, black eye even worse than Glenn remembered. He was snoring loudly, eyes clenched shut in was appeared to be discomfort and the older man was still in the same clothes as last night; he hadn’t even bothered to kick off his heavy boots. Glenn couldn’t remember exactly what happened but he did remember Daryl getting angry, yelling at Glenn before storming out of his bedroom. Brimming with regret Glenn padded barefoot into the kitchen-when had he removed his shoes and socks?-to make an extra-large pot of coffee.

            While the coffee brewed Glenn dug out a bottle of aspirin, take a few straight from the container, washing them down with a lukewarm glass of tap water. Glenn glanced back at Daryl but the older man was still sleeping, one leg bent up against the back of the couch, the other hanging off the edge almost knocking over an empty beer bottle. Once the coffee was done Glenn poured two mugs full-both black-and ventured back into the living room. Standing a few feet away Glenn called out softly, trying not to startle the sleeping man but Daryl refused to budge. Glenn edged a little closer, cautious, and nudged Daryl’s thigh with his toes only to jump back when Daryl awoke with a snort, fist lashing out. Glenn yelped as he avoided being punched, coffee sloshing onto the scuffed wood floor.

            “Wha’s goin’ on?” Daryl slurred, looking around anxiously, eyes finally settling on Glenn. They narrowed into a glare.

            “I’m sorry,” Glenn blurted, holding out the coffee as a peace offering.

            Daryl eyed the coffee skeptically for a long second before running a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair, reaching out to take the mug with the other. Glenn stood before Daryl awkwardly, unsure what to do next; he couldn’t remember _why_ Daryl was mad, just that it been something he said. Daryl shuffled to one side of the couch with a wince. Glenn sat in the empty space, careful to not get too close.

            “I’m sorry.”

            “What’d I tell you ‘bout sayin’ sorry all the time?” Daryl asked, poking at the bruise lining his eye.

            Glenn thought before answering, “Not to?”

            “So why’re you aplogizin’?” Daryl sipped at his coffee, looking down at his knees. There were speckles of blood there that Glenn hadn’t noticed before.

            “Well,” Glenn considered, “I said something that upset you.”

            “ _Upset me?_ ” Daryl snorted into his cup. “What are we, a bunch of girls? You pissed me off, kid. It ain’t hard to do so I’d get used to it if I was you.”

            Glenn nodded.

            Daryl was shifting uncomfortably every few seconds, face blank and mouth shut tight but Glenn could see the pain in his eyes.

            “You alright?” Glenn asked reaching out to touch Daryl’s shoulder but thought better of it.

            “Fine. Just a bit sore. Fucker was wearin’ boots.”

            “Do you want to go to the hospital?”

            “Kid, you an’ I both know I don’ have the money to be payin’ some doctor to tell me I need to take it easy. Look, Chinaman, I’m restin’.” Daryl leaned back with a smirk, spreading out leisurely. He continued, “‘Sides, ain’t that bad. Been roughed up a lot worse.”

            Glenn wanted to ask but didn’t, instead leaning his head back and closing his eyes in an attempt to ease the pain.  His stomach was rolling and there was a stabbing pain behind his eyelids but Glenn tried to put it out of his mind, choosing to focus on the warmth of the cup in his hands and the steady repetition of Daryl’s breathing. After a while Glenn found himself dozing off and thought for just a second that he may drop his drink but the cup was being slipped from his fingertips.

 

* * *

 

            Daryl walked with a limp for the better part of a week but didn’t complain once, brushing his pain off as if it were nothing. Glenn was kind of awed by the man’s strength, realizing Daryl was everything he wasn’t; strong, determined, and viciously independent. Glenn still put a Band-Aid on his paper cuts. The older man worked more than Glenn did, beginning at the crack of dawn and often times staying until the coffee shop closed; Glenn couldn’t remember the last time he had worked fifteen hours straight. A few days a week Daryl didn’t return home until almost eleven, hours after the coffee shop had closed, an old leather bag tucked under his arm. He would grab a beer and disappear into his room until the morning when Glenn would find him asleep on the couch.

            Daryl didn’t have a bank account, no debit or credit card, no checks. He always paid in cash and on time but Glenn had no idea what he did with the rest of his paycheck. It must be hidden somewhere in the apartment.

            The older man was very minimalistic, choosing to wear shirts he probably got at Good Will, boots that were most likely older than a pair of shoes had any right to be, and never came home with material goods for himself. The most expensive things he owned that Glenn could see were his crossbow and the milk crate of records. Glenn would rather not eat for a week than go without his iPhone yet Daryl was perfectly happy carrying around a beat up, prepaid flip phone that looked minutes away from falling apart. It never rang, never vibrated-Glenn wondered why he even kept it around.

            So when Daryl came home carrying a bag from Best Buy Glenn was shocked. He stared slack-jawed as Daryl set the box down on the coffee table and withdrew a white box, minimally labeled but obviously an Apple product. The pristine packaging looked awkward in Daryl’s dirty hands as he fumbled to get it open, pulling a knife out of his pocket to cut the tape holding the flaps shut. He made quick work of the box after that, tossing cardboard carelessly on the ground before carefully pulling out a slim, delicate looking laptop.

            “Is that the new Macbook Pro?” Glenn asked, excited.

            “I guess?” Daryl said even though it came out more like a question. He started at the electronic device in his hand like it was a foreign object. “Guy at the store said it was good.”

            “Good? Daryl, how did you afford that?”

            “I got money, kid. Some idiot only charges me two hundred bucks to live with him.”

            Glenn paused before realizing Daryl had cracked a joke, laughing louder than he had intended once getting over the shock. Daryl continued setting up the computer but Glenn caught the slight upturn of his lips, a ghost of a smile that stunned Glenn more than the joke.

            “We don’t have internet,” Glenn warned once he composed himself.

            Daryl looked thoughtful. “Can we get it?”

            “Well if we split it 50/50 we should be able to afford it. Mine got shut off when I couldn’t afford the bill.”

            Daryl was nodding but staring intently at the computer, tongue poking out of one corner of his mouth. It turned on silently, screen illuminated. Glenn watched a look of confusion wash over Daryl’s face. His fingers hovered over the keys before resting in his lap, body fidgeting uneasily.  

            “How the hell am I ‘sposed to use this thing?” Daryl growled, hands balling into fists.

            “Dude, Macs are super hard to get the hang of at first. Trust me.” Glenn moved closer to Daryl, their elbows brushing. Daryl didn’t look away from the laptop. “They’re a lot different than a PC, the software and programs aren’t similar at all. I can show you?”

            Daryl sighed low and long, hanging his head between his shoulders. He brought his thumb up to his mouth to bite at a hangnail before answering, “I ain’t stupid.”

            “No!” Glenn shook his head wildly, “I don’t think you’re dumb, man. I’ve just used a lot of Apple products, I know how they work. Seriously I don’t mind showing you a few pointers.”

            Daryl finally turned to look at Glenn, eyes shining with some unreadable emotion. “Sure. Why the hell not?”

            Glenn reached over Daryl’s lap to snatch the laptop up, placing it between the two. “So why did you get this, anyways?”

            “None a yer business,” Daryl responded coldly.

            Glenn brushed it off and started his lesson, showing Daryl the basics. Daryl listened intently, nodding his head along with Glenn’s words and asking questions when appropriate. Glenn had to repeat himself a few times and tried not to feel bad when Daryl became visibly frustrated.

            “Sorry,” Daryl blurted out about twenty minutes into their lesson.

            Glenn did a double take. “For what?” He stuttered out.

            “Fer bein’ snappy with you. Yer just tryin’ to help.”

            Glenn laughed, “What was it you told me about apologizing?”

            Daryl glared but there was an amused glint in his eyes, “Real funny, Shortround.”

TBC… 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. Obviously.
> 
> A/N: Please let me know what you think. Comments, thoughts, constructive criticism and suggestions are all welcome.
> 
> Also, Sparrowoftruth93 (over on ff.net) and I did a fic exchange. You should check the stories out. She did a virgin!Daryl story that I have been so desperately craving! I've gotten some prompts recently. I'm working on them and always welcome more!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here’s another chapter! I’m attempting to do weekly/biweekly posts from now on. Here’s to hoping I actually succeed! Huge thanks to everyone who has been reading/reviewing/enjoying. And a special thanks to Minutecloser2failing, Sparrowoftruth93, and Ihasabukkit.
> 
> Not run by my BETA. All mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine. Obviously. Also, I don’t own Breaking Bad.

            Glenn was doing homework one night when he heard it; a soft vibrating coming from the living room. He looked around for the offending noise but didn’t see anything obvious. Daryl was in the shower, the TV was off and Glenn didn’t own a radio. After a few seconds the noise stopped so Glenn went back to his work only to be interrupted by the insistent vibrations once again. With an annoyed huff Glenn rose and began picking through the pile of trash on the coffee table-Daryl was even messier than Glenn, if that was possible-and under a motorcycle magazine he found Daryl’s cellphone, lighting up angrily. Glenn held it delicately in his hand as the call ended, prepared to ignore it when it began ringing for the third time in a row. Whoever it was must be desperate to reach Daryl. Perhaps it was an emergency. Hesitantly Glenn flipped it ion and held it up to his ear.

            “Hello?” He asked drawing the word out nervously.

            “Who the hell is this?” A man on the other end barked, accent even heavier than Daryl’s.

            “Glenn,” he stuttered, wishing he had left the phone alone.  

            “Glenn who? Where’s Daryl?”

            “Oh he’s in the shower. I’m his roommate.”

            “Roommate?” The man laughed loudly. “Who would let that baby brother of mine live with them?”

            Realization dawned on Glenn, “You must be Merle!”

            “You got that right. Now look, I need to see Daryl so can you tell me where y’all live?”

            Glenn faltered, glancing back at the bathroom.

            “Can you give me a number he can call you back on?” Glenn asked.  

            The man sighed. “Why don’ you make this easy on everyone an’ jus’ give me yer address.”

            Daryl emerged from the bathroom then, clean and freshly shaved, smelling faintly of whatever aftershave he used. He froze when he saw Glenn.

            “What the hell d’you think yer doin?” Daryl exclaimed rushing to yank the phone out of Glenn’s hand, glaring at the Asian man even as he spoke. “Merle?”

            Pause.

            “Where have you _been_? … New Mexico? What the hell-” Daryl was cut off and Glenn could hear Merle yelling from a few feet away. “Come over,” Daryl relented, running a tired hand over his face.

            He gave Merle the address before hanging up, throwing the phone across the room.

            It broke into three pieces against Glenn’s _Captain America_ poster.

            Daryl rounded on Glenn. “Who do you think you are?”

            “I-” But Daryl didn’t let him explain, inching closer to poke a finger roughly at the middle of his chest. Glenn would never admit out loud that it hurt.

            “My phone ain’t none a yer damn business you fuckin’ chink. You ever think that maybe I don’ want to talk to Merle?”

            “But he’s your brother.”

            Daryl sneered. “Yeah well, sometimes blood ain’t got yer best interest in mind. Where’re yer folks, huh?”

            Glenn didn’t respond, felt his whole body tense up.

            “Are they dead?” Daryl asked.

            “No.”

            “Then where are they? You never talk ‘bout them, they obviously ain’t helpin’ you pay yer bills. So,” Daryl gestured to the open space around them, “why ain’t they here?”

            Glenn set his jaw and felt his hands tighten into fists. “Because they’re not welcome here.”

            Daryl just looked at him sourly. “He’s gonna be here in an hour. You might wanna get gone,” he warned.

            “What? Why?”

            “You know how I call you chink all the time?” Glenn nodded. “Well Merle knows a lot more insults than I do. And he’ll mean ‘em.”

            “So? I can handle a few racial slurs. I live with you, after all.”

            Daryl regaurded him carefully.

            “Suit yerself, kid.”

 

* * *

 

 

            A loud banging on the door startled Glenn and he could already feel the tension. Daryl squared his shoulders and walked down the hallway. Glenn couldn’t see the front door from where he sat on the couch but heard the two men greeting each other and Merle’s heavy footsteps drawing near. The man’s boots echoed ominously. Daryl entered the living room first, a big man following not far behind. The Dixon brothers were almost exactly equal in height but Merle carried himself in such a way that made him seem much taller, more domineering. He was all muscle and hard lines, older than Daryl but very obviously related. Glenn stood and Merle stopped, looking at Glenn before breaking down in a fit of mocking laughter.

            “What’s this?” Merle asked, jerking a thumb at Glenn, “You shackin’ up with Jackie Chan?”

            “I’m Korean,” Glenn corrected. Daryl shook his head in a silent order to shut up. “Jackie Chan is Chinese.”

            Merle’s brows furrowed and he took a menacing step closer to Glenn. “What’d you say to me?”

            Glenn stood his ground. “I said I’m Korean, not Chinese.”

            “All you rice eaters look the same so what’s the difference?”

            “You mean besides the fact that we’re born in different countries?”

            Merle stared at him long and hard. Glenn could feel sweat beading on his forehead and he braced himself for the hit that was sure to come. But it never did. Merle started laughing again, expression open and welcoming. He clapped Glenn on the back hard enough to make him stumbled forward a few steps.

            “You don’t scare easy, do you?” Merle said, gripping the back of Glenn’s neck briefly. The hold was a little too tight despite its friendly intentions. “I like that.”

            Glenn glanced at Daryl who was looking at the two of them wide-eyed. Confused. He smirked smugly at Daryl feeling a sense of pride that he had gained Merle’s respect-at least as much respect as he would probably get from a racist redneck who looked more like a neo-Nazi than anything else. Merle released his hold to sling an arm around Daryl’s shoulders, pulling his brother close. Daryl looked skeptical but Merle appeared extremely pleased. At ease.

            “Alright Darleena, le’s go to yer room. We need to talk business.”

            The two disappeared into Daryl’s room.

 

* * *

 

 

            Glenn wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Really, he wasn’t, but he was doing his homework on the couch and Merle’s voice _carried_. He couldn’t hear everything; they were both speaking in hushed voices, conversation muffled by the door. But the apartment was old, the walls thin and Glenn picked up a few words here and there. The name _Heisenberg_ was repeated more than once and Merle said the phrase _blue sky_ as if he was talking about gold.

            Curiosity peaked, Glenn started straining his ears in an attempt to catch more of the conversation. Daryl was talking but his words were too low, spoken too quickly. There was a _thump_ that made Glenn startle followed by silence. Glenn was just about to rush into the room when the door slid open, bouncing off the wall as Merle sauntered out, a wilted Daryl close behind him.

            “We’re goin’ out fer drinks,” Merle announced. He stuffed one big hand down the front of his leather pants to adjust himself. “You comin’ zipperhead?”

            “Merle,” Daryl hissed under his breath, sparing Glenn a quick glance.

            Glenn tried to grin, his smile wavering. “At least you got the right country,” he said, a quick, forced chuckle escaping his lips.

            Merle looked confused, head tilted just so and Glenn could tell he was trying to figure out what Glenn had just said. Then he turned to Daryl and punched him playfully on the arm.

“C’mon, le’s get goin’.” He pointed at Glenn. “You too, Jet Li. We’re gonna see how red yer face can get.”

Glenn didn’t argue, only grabbed his wallet and keys and followed the two men out of the apartment wondering what he had just gotten himself into.

 

* * *

 

 

Merle led them to a little dive bar five blocks away that Glenn had never noticed before. It was small, probably only slightly larger than their living room and full of loud music and the heavy smell of leather. The furniture was wood and old, scarred and dented from years of misuse and the TV on the wall had an honest-to-god VHS built into it. Everyone occupying the bar looked at least ten years older than Glenn and all of them were white, covered in tattoos and more than a little intimidating. Glenn felt out of place in his jeans and hoodie, his different skin color and obvious racial differences making him stick out like a sore thumb. He inched closer to Daryl, their elbows brushing and instantly felt a little more at ease.

They sat at the bar, Glenn between Merle and Daryl and he didn’t argue when Merle ordered them a round of shots. Whiskey. Merle was grinning broadly, scoping the place out with a feral grin on his face. There weren’t a lot of women but the ones who were there were scantily clad, bottle blondes and appeared ready and willing for whoever came at them. The whiskey burned going down, the cheap liquor tangy on tongue. He coughed and Merle peered over his head at Daryl, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“This one can’t shoot whiskey, huh?”

“I prefer tequila,” Glenn defended.

“Alrigh’ then, tequila it is. Hey darlin’!” Merle yelled down the bar, signaling the woman making a rum and coke. She was pretty and young but definitely looked like she had been around.

She walked up to them, hips sashaying back and forth and she leaned in toward Daryl who had up until that point been silently drawn in on himself. She fluttered her eyelashes and crossed her arms in a way that pushed her breasts up.

“What can I get you boys?” She asked.

“We need another round, darlin’, tequila this time,” Merle requested, reaching around Glenn’s back to nudge Daryl. “An’ another shot of whiskey fer my baby brother.”

“Brother, huh? You got a name sugar?” She leaned in closer to Daryl, hair falling over her shoulders.

Daryl leaned away, arms crossed over his chest.

“Daryl,” He stated simply. Short and crude.

“Daryl,” She repeated, words purring. “It fits you. What kind of whiskey can I get for you, Daryl?”

“Well’s fine. Don’t need nothin’ fancy.” Daryl looked away from the bartended and at Glenn instead, catching his eye. Glenn had never seen Daryl so vulnerable. “C’mon kid, you shoot pool?”

“A little,” Glenn said, tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie, “I’m not very good.”

Daryl grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him away from the bar toward an empty pool table. Glenn looked back just in time to see the disappointed pout on the bartender’s face. Daryl racked up the table, arranging the balls precisely and more accurately than the guys at the frat parties always did. A cue was shoved into Glenn’s hand and Daryl chalked it up for him, moving to break all without conversing with Glenn. Daryl made two solids in at the same time.

“Great. I’m playing with a damn pool shark,” Glenn muttered humorously.

Daryl smirked, one corner of his mouth turning up devilishly.

Glenn never played pool by the official rules so Daryl had to stop him every so often to explain a few things. They moved around the table fluidly, never getting in one another’s way, their bodies whispering past each other almost gracefully. Daryl had popped the top three buttons of his sleeveless plaid shirt at some point exposing a few inches of skin. It was the most naked Glenn had ever seen him.

“So,” Glenn said leaning against his pool cue, “that bartender was totally checking you out.”

Daryl shrugged, leaning over the table to line up a shot. “She’s not really my type.”

“Huge rack isn’t your type?”

Daryl stood up and arched his eyebrow. “I’m more of an ass man.”

Glenn choked on a laugh, mouth open to respond when a beer was shoved into his free hand. Merle passed one to Daryl and grabbed the cue from Glenn, taking a perfect shot, pocketing the striped _12_ ball.

“C’mon chink, Daryl is kickin’ yer ass. Don’ you know how to shoot pool?”

“Lay off the kid,” Daryl said, shoving past Merle so close their shoulders knocked.

“What? He yer _boyfriend_ , Darleena?” Merle taunted, ruffling Daryl’s hair.

“Well ain’t you just hilarious,” Daryl was grinning, sipping his beer.

A server came over with three shot glasses and a bottle of Johnny Walker and Merle kissed her on the cheek, handing over a few bills. Glenn was pretty sure one of them was a hundred.

“Drink up boys, I don’ want us to remember our names by the end of the night.

 

* * *

 

 

Glenn groaned, rolling over only to find himself face first on the floor. The wood was hard but cool on his over-heated face, fingers curling against the rough grains. He opened his eyes and realized he was in the living room and his fall off the couch had nearly ended with him cracking his head on the coffee table. Painfully Glenn looked around and saw Daryl a few feet away, sprawled on top of a sleeping bag in front of the TV. Daryl’s mouth was open, arm thrown over his eyes, legs spread wide. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, one side sliding off his tan shoulder. Glenn squinted, zeroing in on a large, raised scar marring Daryl’s collarbone. It looked old, jagged and deep and painful.

A can snicking open caught his attention.

“Woo!” Merle yelled, stumbling in from the kitchen in nothing but his boxer-briefs, beer in hand. He looked as bad as Glenn felt. “You sure can hold yer own chink.”

“What?” Glenn asked voice scratchy. His tongue felt like it weighed a ton.

“Most people can’t keep up with us Dixon men.” Merle sat on the couch with a grunt.

“I know I didn’t drink as much as you two,” Glenn said, pushing himself up slowly. He crawled on hands and knees to the couch, pulling himself up onto the opposite side, sinking into the cushions.

“Hell no! ‘Course you didn’t.” Merle puffed out his chest proudly. “But you came close. An’ you didn’t puke.”

“Yer face got real red, though,” Daryl said, peaking at them from under his arm.

“I’m going back to bed,” Glenn whimpered, holding his head in his hands.

Merle laughed him all the way to his room.

 

TBC…   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review and let me know what you think!!
> 
> For those of you who watch Breaking Bad I’m sure you caught on to the references. YES, this is going to be a slight crossover with the show. But for those of you who don’t watch Breaking Bad don’t fret, it isn’t necessary for you to have prior knowledge of the series. Also, I am insanely excited about this. 
> 
> Also, there are a few quotes taken directly from season one/three of TWD. I’m sure you noticed.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: WOW. Ok. Sorry about the huge wait. I had a good reason at first, and then it just turned into me hating everything I wrote. I was sick with the flu for about three weeks, then away at a friend's/magfest for a week. Then after that my writing just looked terribly to me.
> 
> So here's half of what I have written. The end needs a little work (I'm hoping to get it out tomorrow or Sunday) but you guys have waited so long I decided to post up about half of it since it's all edited. Huge thanks to Ihasabukkit for helping me work through some awkward parts.
> 
> WARNINGS: Drinking and drug use (and by drugs I mean marijuana)

           October was drawing to an end by the time Daryl finally got a bed. He dragged it through the door at eleven o’clock at night looking worn and tired, arms flexing under the strain-it was only a double but the mattress looked thick and firm. Glenn rushed to help, lifting one end while Daryl lifted the other and with a nod of thanks the older man maneuvered them into his room.

            “Set it against the wall,” Daryl ordered, jerking his head toward the far right corner. “Box spring is out in the hallway,” he added, leaving the room.

            By the time Glenn had the mattress propped up against the wall Daryl was back with the box spring, grunting as he dropped it noisily on the floor. With boot-clad feet he kicked at it until it was snug in the left corner farthest away from the door. Daryl’s face was slick with sweat and with an aggravated huff he swiped at his eyes to expel the moisture, tugging the mattress until he was able to propel it atop the box spring. Glenn smiled fondly when Daryl flopped backwards onto his new bed, unfolding his body to stretch out fully, arms and legs spread out leisurely, eyes closed. 

            “Feels good to have a bed again,” Daryl said after a quiet moment, “been a while.”

Glenn stood awkwardly in the doorway while Daryl remained on the bed, basking in the comfort of the plush cushioning.

            “So,” Glenn began. Daryl cracked one eye open to look at Glenn, apparently too lazy to do much else. “My friend Brent is having a Halloween party this weekend and I was wondering you wanted to go.”

            “You want me to go party with all of yer college buddies?” Daryl scoffed, throwing an arm up ruffle his already messy hair.

            “I just thought you might want to get out of the house, meet some new people.” Glenn shrugged, beginning to regret inviting Daryl.

            The older man considered him carefully, sitting up on one elbow. “You want to bring an old man to drink with all the people you know?” There was a smirk on his face but Glenn caught a slight hint of uncertainty in his voice.

            “You’re not old!” Glenn laughed, trying to reassure Daryl. “And you’re my friend, aren’t you?”

            Daryl looked away quickly, not speaking for so long Glenn was considering backing out of the room, thinking that perhaps he had overstepped his bounds and crossed some line Daryl had put up.

            “Where’s the party at?” Daryl finally asked.

            “Brent’s family has a cabin outside of town. In the middle of nowhere, really, so he has fires out there once in a while.” Glenn scrubbed at the back of his neck.

            “Middle of nowhere, huh?  I can do that.”

            Glenn couldn’t help but grin.

 

* * *

 

 

            Glenn watched Daryl’s entire body begin to relax; the farther from the city they got the more at ease he seemed, back slouching, arm dangling out the window despite the slight chill to the air. The bed of the truck was packed with things Glenn didn’t think they’d need-a tent, Daryl’s crossbow, a sleeping bag and a toolbox filled with miscellaneous things-but Daryl had been adamant about bringing them. _“You never know, kid,”_ he had said and Glenn had only shrugged.

            The snick of a can being opened drew Glenn’s eyes back to Daryl, who was holding an open PBR he had pulled out of-somewhere. Glenn looked around but didn’t see a bag and the cooler was in the back seat under a mini keg of Heineken. Daryl drank heavily from the can, the liquid slurped into his mouth noisily.

            “Are you sure that’s safe?” Glenn asked, looking around in alarm.

            “Relax, Shortround,” Daryl laughed, taking another swig, “we’re the only ones out here. You see any pigs?”

            “I-” Glenn looked around one more time before relenting with a sigh.

            Daryl hummed.

            “Where’d you pull that from, anyways?”

            Daryl didn’t respond, instead he balanced the can and steering wheel in his right hand, reaching under his seat with his left. A second later there was a lukewarm PBR shoved in Glenn’s hand. Glenn eyed it suspiciously, casting Daryl a side-long glance.

            “I know it ain’t yer fancy chink beer,” Daryl commented when Glenn finally opened the pull-tab, “but drink up.”

            Glenn did just that.

 

* * *

 

 

            By the time they arrived at the party Glenn had a weak buzz-he had no idea how Daryl had fit that many cans under his seat-and was more than ready to really unwind. As Daryl parked the truck Glenn could feel the tension building back up in the man. Instead of commenting Glenn just exited the vehicle (he could finally open the door without assistance), the music from the party loud, bass thumping. People were spilling in and out of the large cabin, some standing on the front porch, others meandering around the yard. Glenn had the cooler and keg out of the back and settled on the ground when Daryl finally made his way around, wordlessly grabbing on end of the cooler. Glenn was quick to take hold of his side, wondering if inviting Daryl had been a good idea. Glenn led them to the backyard where he knew Brent would be, watching Daryl out of the corner of his eye.

            Brent was cursing around the blunt in his mouth, kicking at a pile of firewood that wasn’t lit. When he saw Glenn he cheered, puffing one more time before passing the blunt off to Glenn, who took it gladly.

            “Having trouble?” Glenn asked after a toke, nodding to Daryl to set the cooler down. He promptly opened it and took out another beer.

            “Been trying to get a fire started for an hour!” Brent complained. “I think the wood is wet or something.”

            “Wow, dude, guess your Boy Scout training really didn’t pay off.” Glenn handed the blunt to Daryl, who looked slightly surprised.

            “Didn’ know you had it in you, Chinaman.” Daryl smirked when he slipped the roll between his lips, closing his eyes as he held the smoke in.

            “This the guy?” Brent inquired, crossing his arms and giving Glenn a _look_.

            Daryl held in a cough, quirking an eyebrow at Glenn, “Guy?” Smoke exhaled in thick clouds out of his mouth and nostrils.

            “Brent, this is Daryl, my new roommate,” Glenn introduced. “Daryl, this is Brent.”

            The two nodded at each other, all of them falling into a comfortable silence, blunt passed between them in a lazy circle.

            “Where’s the fire?” Someone yelled and Brent muttered something before running off.

            Brent came back with a look of determination on his face and a can of lighter fluid in his hands, striding towards the fire pit. Daryl choked on his beer, grabbed Brent around the bicep to pull him back and spluttered, “What’re you doing?”

            “Getting this bitch started!” Brent yelled and a few people nearby cheered.

            When Brent raised his arms above his head triumphantly Daryl chuckled and snatched the lighter fluid from him, setting it on the ground.

            “Easy there, Rambo,” Daryl calmed Brent, “let me handle this.”

            Glenn watched Daryl go over to the fire pit, hands steady and sure. The older man removed the larger logs and fingered the smaller sticks, feeling their texture. With an unconscious click of his tongue Daryl unsheathed the knife that was forever at his waist, cutting slits into the wood with downward strokes, then stacked them into a pyramid like Glenn had seen on those survival shows. Daryl reached blindly behind him, grabbing a few fallen leaves and dry grass, stuffing them in between the wooden teepee.

            “He’s like a fire ninja,” Brent stage whispered with a giggle.

            They watched as Daryl patted his pickers, extracting a black lighter. Soon there was a low fire and Daryl bent over to blow on the embers, causing the flames to steadily grow. Daryl piled on a few thicker pieces of wood and stood, admiring his handiwork proudly. Party-goers were immediately drawn to the fire, all of them chattering happily and loudly. Glenn offered Daryl a fresh beer when he wandered back over.

            “What was all that?” Brent asked.

            “What was what?”

            “When you cut the wood,” Brent gestured wildly in a poor mimic of what Daryl had done.

            “Them twigs you got are still green,” Daryl started, Brent nodding his head eagerly. “When it’s green like that it’s harder to burn. It’s still wet, you see?”

            Glenn listened intently, intrigued by how much Daryl seemed to know. For the first time since they met Daryl seemed genuinely excited, happy to show off skills that were much less appreciated in the city.

            “If you cut into it like that, the moisture will evaporate faster.”

            “Dude, that’s some national geographic shit!” Brent praised, turning to the crowd that had gathered, slinging an arm across Daryl’s shoulders. Glenn saw the way the older man tensed up, hunching his shoulders against the attention. “Daryl Dixon, man of the hour!”

            Cheers erupted, red cups and cans alike raised high in drunken wonder.

 

* * *

 

 

            Glenn leaned back in his lawn chair, drink settled between his legs to free his hands. The glass of the bowl was cool in his hands and the fire was hot at his feet, and Daryl’s elbow brushed his when Glenn lit the pipe. Daryl was talking to Brent about something and it took a second for Glenn to get his attention. Daryl took the piece from him without stopping his conversation. Exhaling slowly Glenn tilted his head to stare at the sky and wondered at how clear the sky was and how bright the stars were. The air was just this side of chilly, gentle wind brushing his cheeks deliciously and he felt more at ease than he had in a long time.

            “Holy shit,” Brent exclaimed, words drawn out dramatically, “is that Jake?”

            “What?” Glenn jerked, spilling beer down his jeans. “Where?”

            Brent pointed to the house where a tall, dark-haired man was scanning the crowd.

            “Jesus!” Glenn hissed, ducking his head. “What is he _doing_ here?”

            “I didn’t tell him,” Brent assured, raising his hands innocently, “I swear I didn’t. I don’t know how he found out.”

            “Who th’ hell is Jake?” Daryl’s voice startled Glenn.

            “Glenn’s douchebag ex,” Brent told him, standing as Jake closed in on the trio.

            “Glenn,” Jake said coolly, stopping in front of his chair.

            Glenn gulped but stood, attempting to brush off some of the split beer. “Why are you here?" He asked, hating the way his voice wavered.

            “Can I not see you?” Jake questioned with a sneer.

            “I’m pretty positive that breaking up with me means we no longer have to be around each other.”

            “Dude,” Brent said before Jake could say anything else. When he tried to move closer he stumbled, body disoriented after hours of drinking, and he bumped into a still-seated Daryl before righting himself. “I don’t know how you found out about my party, but you need to leave.”

            “Stay out of it, Brent, this has nothing to do with you,” Jake snarled, taking a step forward. Brent stood his ground.

            “Leave, Jake,” Glenn demanded, clenching his hands into fists. He tried to ignore the way his entire face lit up in embarrassment and anger.

            “Come on, Glenn,” Jake said, reaching out a hand to touch Glenn’s face.

            A hand shot out to grab his wrist before he could make contact.

            “I’m pretty sure he told you to leave,” Daryl stood, not yet letting go of Jake.

            “And who the hell are you?” Jake’s eyes narrowed and he tugged, trying to free his arm but Daryl’s grip didn’t yield.

            “Ain’t none a yer business who I am, city boy,” Daryl’s voice was deep, accent thicker than usual.

           Jake winced and Glenn realized Daryl was squeezing harder, knuckles turning white before he let go. Suddenly Jake moved closer to Glenn, chests bumping, and Glenn fell back into his seat. He gasped, unsure of what to do but then Daryl was shoving Jake back with a rough hand on the chest, stepping between them and blocking Glenn’s view. Jake righted himself, smoothing down a nonexistent wrinkle in his Polo shirt.

          “Who do you think you are, you fucking redneck?” Jake yelled and a few people stopped their conversations to watch.

          “You best get gone,” was all Daryl said, body straight, stance assertive.

          Glenn had known since the first day they met that Daryl was dangerous, but looking at him now almost made Glenn feel bad for Jake.

          Almost.

          When Jake didn’t say anything Daryl took half a step in his direction, saying, “If you don’ get outta my face I’ma break every tooth in yer mouth, boy.”

          Jake looked around him, at the people watching, and at the ominous man before him before cursing and storming off, looking back at Glenn once.

          Glenn sat in a daze while Brent swooped in on Daryl, patting him on the back and yelling about how amazing he was. Daryl just shook it off, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. All the anger was gone from his face, replaced with the awkwardness Glenn was so familiar with. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Daryl ducked his head, shouldering past Brent to the cooler where he stayed, staring at the grass.

“Dude, seriously, that was _amazing_ ,” Brent gushed, crouching down next to Glenn.

“I…have no idea what just happened,” Glenn said, blinking owlishly.

“What happened is Daryl almost just beat the shit out of Jake! I kind of wish he had, I would have paid money to see that.” Brent sighed wistfully before standing, patting Glenn on the shoulder and walking off to talk to a group of women.

Glenn bit his lip, playing with the hem of his shirt awkwardly. He kept looking at Daryl who was still shifting nervously from foot to foot. Finally he stood, walking over to the older man.

“Um,” Glenn kicked at a pebble, “thank you. For what you did.”

“No problem, kid,” Daryl said gruffly, not looking at him.

“I-are you ok?” Glenn asked. “With me being, you know, _gay_? I guess I should have told you,” Glenn began rambling, words spilling from his mouth at an alarming rate.

“Shut up, chink,” Daryl interjected. Glenn snapped his mouth shut. “I don’ care if you take it up the ass. Ain’t none a my business, is it?”

Glenn let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “ _Thank you_ ,” Glenn repeated.

“So what was with the tool?” Daryl finally raised his head to look at Glenn, small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, Jake?” Daryl nodded. “That’s a long story, but I’m glad he’s gone. I can’t thank you enough.”

Daryl was quiet, regarding his curiously. It looked as though he was about to say something but Brent’s voice rang through the air,

“ **Beer pong!”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine
> 
> A/N: The second half of the chapter will be up this weekend.
> 
> So I'm currently working two jobs (one part-time and one full-time) and attending college. So there's two options for chapters. Shorter chapters once/twice a week, or longer chapters once every two weeks or so. Let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: More to come soon! I know this second half is way late. I was debating certain parts quite thoroughly.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Art belongs to my amazing friend MinuteCloser2Failing. Seriously. You see that skill?
> 
> WARNINGS: Recreation drug use, drinking.

            Glenn’s head was buzzing pleasantly and he couldn’t help the silly grin he knew was on his face. Brent was explaining beer pong rules to a confused-looking Daryl from where he stood on the other end of the table with a guy Glenn had never seen before. Daryl held one of the little white balls in his hand, looking between Brent and the table.

            “So, you get it?” Brent finally asked.

            “This is ridiculous,” Daryl muttered but stepped up anyways, ready to throw the ball.

            “I can’t believe you’ve never played before,” Glenn laughed.

            “Kid, do you forget how old I am?” Daryl said, eyes narrowing in on the six cups on the opposite end of the table. “When I was yer age me ‘n Merle were playin’ quarters, not _beer pong_.”

            Glenn was going to say something smart, perhaps call Daryl old, but then the man bounced on his toes and arched his arm and the ball went in the front cup without even hitting the rim. The beer splashed and Brent looked a little awestruck but he drank from the cup anyways, rinsing the ball off while he did. Glenn cheered, stepping up himself, but his ball missed. Daryl smirked.

            “Are you sure you’ve never played before?” Brent asked, setting the empty cup aside. “Because that was some sniper shit right there!”

            While Daryl continued to make every shot, Glenn missed and he was beginning to flush in embarrassment. Brent was calling out insults and the crowd that had gathered was watching in interest, laughing along. Daryl bumped their shoulders together and jutted his chin out when there was just one cup left for each team.

            “C’mon, Chinaman,” Daryl said, allowing Glenn to go first, “you wanna win, don’cha?”

            Glenn finished his beer and lined up the shot, taking a few calming breaths. Daryl grabbed his elbow and shook, startling Glenn. “Aim, kid,” Daryl instructed, “take yer time.”

 

            He nodded and did as he was told, trying to zero in on the lone red solo cup and tune out whoever was chanting his name. Glenn could see Daryl watching him out of the corner of his eye, and knew Brent was smirking and waiting for him to screw up. Letting his limbs relax, Glenn spared a quick glance at Daryl before loosing the ball, watching it roll around the rim of the cup. It wobbled precariously on the edge for what felt like forever before finally dropping in to land with a soft _plop_ in the beer. Before anyone could react Daryl was tossing his ball through the air in a graceful arc, landing on top of Glenn’s. Glenn yelled triumphantly but Daryl was as calm as always, drinking from a fresh can but Glenn saw the smirk on his lips.

            “Oh, you bastard!” Brent yelled, pointing from the cup to Daryl and back again. “That’s game! We don’t even get redemption.”

            “Do we get anything fer winning?” Daryl asked smugly.

            “Just the knowledge that you beat Brent in his own house. I don’t think he’s every lost.”

            Someone dropped a heavy hand on Daryl’s shoulder a second later and Glenn watched, shocked, as Daryl dropped his beer to reach for his waist, fingers brushing over his knife. The older man’s whole body had twitched, shrugging out of the grasp and into Glenn, their bodies colliding enough to cause Glenn to stumble. The man, at least a head taller than Daryl, held up his hands with a look of shock on his face.

 

“Sorry, dude,” he said, voice squeaking slightly, “I just wanted to say congrats. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

            “You didn’ scare me,” Daryl snarled defensively, straightening and shoving Glenn away from him.

            Glenn bit his tongue against his retort, eyes narrowing in on the slight tremor of Daryl’s body. 

            “Adventure!” Brent yelled from across the room, wrapping an arm around a pretty girl’s shoulder. He had protruded a bottle of whisky from somewhere, most likely from his dad’s liquor cabinet, and the two of them were sipping happily from it.

            Grateful for the distraction, Glenn beckoned Daryl over, snagging the bottle from Brent. Daryl took it with a small nod of his head, drinking heavily.

            “You guys wanna go for a walk?” Brent asked, pulling the girl closer.

            “Do you have flashlights?” Glenn wondered, looking around the room.

            Brent’s face fell. “Maybe?”

            “Don’ worry ‘bout it, I have a few in my truck,” Daryl said, handing the bottle off to Glenn as he walked away.

            A few minutes later Daryl returned .The older man was carrying three flashlights, a battery operated lantern, and a fresh beer. Glenn was a little shocked to see his crossbow hanging from his belt. A few people shot Daryl odd looks, Glenn noticed, but Brent was again impressed. While Brent was a friendly guy he typically didn’t welcome strangers so openly, especially other men.

            “What’s with the crossbow, Chuck Norris?” Brent asked, leaning down to inspect the weapon more carefully. Daryl slapped his hand away when Brent reached out to touch it.

            “You said we’re goin’ fer a walk, right?” Brent nodded. “You ever been in these parts before?”

            “Obviously,” Brent scoffed, faux offended, “my parents have owned this place since before I was born.”

            “No,” Daryl shook his head humorously, “I don’ mean in yer fancy log cabin, Wonder Bread. I’m talkin’ ‘bout the _woods_.”

            “Oh.” Brent appeared to be pondering. “Well. No.”

            When Glenn laughed Brent turned on him with a scowl.

            “Don’t even start with me, G-Man!” He turned to Daryl, “He’s never even slept in a tent before.”

            “You ain’t never-” Daryl began incredulously but stopped himself with a shake of his head and a, “damn city folks,” under his breath.

* * *

 

 

            Glenn watched as Daryl instinctually took the lead, flashlight in one hand, beer in the other. He looked casual and comfortable but Glenn noticed the way the older man was watching their surroundings, ears trained in the direction of every rando noise. Most of the party had stayed behind but five or six people were trailing behind Glenn, most of them women.

            “What if we get lost?” Someone called.

            Daryl stopped and waited for everyone to catch up. Glenn moved in close, pulling Brent with him.

            “Don’ worry ‘bout getting lost,” Daryl reassured when everyone stopped moving. He aimed his light at the ground and said, “None of you are light on yer feet. I could follow yer trail without a flashlight.”

            Glenn knew Daryl was making fun of them somehow but he curiously looked under his sneakers and back the way they had come anyway. “I don’t see anything.”

            Daryl looked surprised; mouth slack for just a second before he snorted, “‘Course you don’, Chinaman.”

            “So,” Brent wandered close to Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl didn’t look at him but Glenn could tell he was paying attention. “What’s your story, man? How’d you get so good at all of,” Brent gestured at the woods, “ _this_?”

            Daryl looked angry and then hesitant, and Glenn was about to change the subject when he said, “My brother brought me hunting when I was five. Been in the woods ever since.”

            They were silent after that, the only sounds were their steps and the girls giggling behind them. Glenn didn’t know how long they walked, happily enjoying his beer and the pleasant tingling that enveloped his entire body. He was caught off guard by the hand on his chest halting his movements.

            “Dude, is that seriously an abandoned building?” Brent looked positively cheerful, pointing at what looked like a cabin straight from a horror film.

            It was a single story building with fading whitewash and broken windows. The front door was hanging off one hinge and had suspicious looking holes in it (Glenn was fairly certain they were from bullets), and the roof was no longer fully intact. Foliage grew around and in the house, green vines creeping in through the windows.

            “Let’s go inside,” Brent said, bouncing on his heels.

            “I don’t know…” Glenn glanced around skeptically, half expecting someone to run at them with an axe.

            “Let me check it out, first,” Daryl told Brent, wielding his crossbow. He held his flashlight under the crossbow to guide his way, walking in a slight, defensive crouch.

            Slowly Daryl crept up to the house, looking this way and that, going until he was in and out of sight. Brent didn’t seem worried but Glenn was skeptical. It was dark out even with the moon and the stars and Glenn had never been in the woods before. A moment later Daryl was back, telling them it was safe and Glenn followed the group inside. A short hallway led to a large room with a fireplace, a door to the left opening into another area. There was old furniture scattered about a scuffed and broken wood floor, toys lying broken in huge heaps. Peeling blue wallpaper lined the walls, covered in scratches and mold. Brent was running around looking at everything and Glenn found Daryl standing away from everyone else, peering into a closet.

            The girls giggled and ran down another hallway, Brent yelling that he’d be there in a second. He walked up to Daryl and Glenn and slipped another blunt out of his jacket sleeve. His eyes were pinched almost completely shut, huge grin plastered on his face. When Brent lit the blunt Daryl seemed to perk a little, walking to stand closer.

            “This place is _so_ cool,” Brent babbled, passing the blunt.

            “I think there’s been squatters here,” Daryl said around a mouthful of smoke.

            “What?” Brent squeaked. “ _Squatters?_ For real?”

            “Ain’t no big deal. If they’re not here this late they probably won’t be comin’ tonight.”

            The group ran back in, a girl screaming. Daryl immediately raised his crossbow and aimed in that direction, searching out the danger. A bat burst into the room after the girls, flying around in confused circles. Daryl sighed, shoulders sagging, and dropped his bow back down to his side. The brunette from earlier wrapped her arms around Brent and hid her face in the crook of his neck. His thumbs up above her shoulder had Glenn snorting around a laugh. When he looked back Daryl was gone, and the blunt with him.

            While Brent laughed at the bat Glenn roamed around in search of Daryl. The floor creaked under his sneakers as Glenn walked, flashlight guiding his way. He found a room with a large couch in it, broken light fixture hanging from the ceiling so low it almost brushed the ground. Suddenly there was someone next to him and Glenn jumped, twitching away. Daryl eyed him with an amused look.

            “Jesus, Daryl!” Glenn gasped, “You scared the shit out of me. I didn’t hear you come in.”

            “Cool it, kid,” he held the blunt out in front of him, “just seeing if you wanted this.”

            The brown paper was short, only an inch long. Glenn reached out with unsteady hands, trying to punch the stub out of Daryl’s fingers. Glenn walked away, puffing, to lean back against the wall. After a gulp of beer he pulled his hood up over his head and zipped the hoodie up a bit, closing his eyes. Rough fingers plucked the blunt from him and then Daryl was standing close enough for Glenn to feel the other man’s body heat. Glenn opened his eyes to find Daryl staring at him with a raised eyebrow, motioning at the blunt,

            “You want a shotgun?” He asked.

            Glenn just nodded, slouching a bit more. Daryl blew the ash off the lit end before sticking it in his mouth until the unlit tip was between his teeth. Without warning Daryl leaned down so their faces were even, one hand braced on the wall above Glenn’s shoulder, the other out of Glenn’s vision. Smoke filled the few inches between their mouths when Daryl began to blow out and Glenn sucked in greedily, filling his lungs. It was harsh and fast and Daryl only stopped when Glenn clamped his mouth shut, unable to take any more. Daryl didn’t move, only flipped the blunt around in his mouth and Glenn watched the way his mole shifted with every puff, the smudge of dirt on his left cheek, and the way he moved his hands.  He was covered lightly in sweat, eyes glassy and bright. When Glenn exhaled, the smoke lingered thickly between them and Glenn could feel his eyes grow heavier.

 

            “Where did you two fuckers run off to?” Brent yelled from the other room, his footsteps loud.

            Daryl stepped back and flicked the blunt on the ground, grinding it out with the heel of boot.

            “You’re all chink-eyed,” Glenn laughed, waving at Daryl’s face.

            “I can’t even see _yer_ eyes, kid. You still awake over there?” Daryl hefted his crossbow and kicked over an old Barbie house.

            Glenn found himself giggling, pulling his hood over his eyes even more. Brent walked in and told them they were heading back to the party and Glenn was a little unsteady on his feet when they left. The walk back felt like it took less time but Glenn stumbled on a tree root about halfway there and when Daryl caught his elbow Brent laughed hard enough to send him to the ground, ass hitting the dirt with a rewarding thump. Daryl kicked at Brent when he walked by and Glenn almost didn’t stop to help him up, but when Brent was on his feet again he opened the bottle of whiskey again.

            After tipping the bottle back generously Glenn leaned against Brent, watching Daryl walk in front of him. Daryl moved fluidly and with easy, never tripping over a root or stumbling on a branch. While everyone else crunched and stomped Daryl’s feet didn’t make a sound, tread light and smooth. Glenn followed the movement of Daryl’s hand to his mouth to bike on his thumb lightly before dropping his arm only to crack his neck.

Brent clapping him on the back broke Glenn out of his daze.

“Another round of beer pong?” He asked.

 

Everyone yelled the affirmative.

 

* * *

The sun was bright despite the hood Glenn had over his eyes. Though the air was cool the sun was baking him and whatever he was lying on was hard and stiff. Glenn was curled up on his side next to an empty beer can and holding a sleeping back and that’s when he realized he was in the bed of Daryl’s truck. Birds were chirping, a few people beginning to move about and leave.

“I found him!” Someone yelled and Glenn instantly knew Brent’s voice.

A bag dropped loudly close to Glenn’s head and he heard Daryl laugh, “Come on, Chinaman, time to get back. I need to work tonight.”

Glenn groaned and flipped the bird in the general direction of Brent’s laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ok. So. PLEASE let me know what you think. I'm stressing over this chapter!
> 
> http://writerchick0214.livejournal.com/8600.html


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the (very) long wait for this update. I have only two excuses: 55 hour work weeks + school, and feeling very uninspired. Everything I've written lately I've hated. But alas, that past few days have been great, and I've gotten a lot written, including a few pages after this chapter ends. So here's a long chapter for you to make up for my absence.
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful new BETA Crocochoo, and to MinueCloser2Failing over on ff.net for giving her input and helping me realize I don't suck at writing Daryl.
> 
> PS. This story is titled after a wonderful song with the same name by Johnny Cash and Emmylou Harris. It is actually important to the story, and is mentioned in this chapter. It's lovely, so please give it a listen (it can be found on Youtube). If Johnny Cash isn't your style, at least give the lyrics a read.

             Having a day off from both jobs - especially in the middle of the week - was a rare occasion, so Glenn took full advantage of it. First, he turned off his alarm and slept until eleven, completely missing breakfast and Daryl leaving for work. Once he was awake, Glenn laid in bed for the better part of an hour, stretching out lazily and reading on his phone. When Glenn’s stomach started growling, he finally dragged himself out of bed, intent on finding something to eat. Padding into the kitchen in nothing but his boxers, he ignored the mess Daryl had left in the kitchen in favor of making coffee, grinning when he found it filled and ready, just waiting to be turned on; Daryl must have cleaned it out and prepared it after using it that morning. Glenn made himself comfortable on the couch with an oversized mug of bitter coffee, turning the channel to watch the Ellen Show, enjoying a rerun that featured Jeremy Renner.

            While the stars on TV discussed _The Hurt Locker_ and Renner’s Oscar nomination, Glenn checked the weather on his phone; it was going to be a bright, beautiful day with just a slight chill. When Glenn was finished, he decided to go for a walk and perhaps visit Daryl at work for a coffee that didn’t taste like burnt water. Everything was dirty so Glenn threw on the closest pair of jeans and a blue zip-up hoodie, foregoing a t-shirt in favor of comfort. The only clean socks Glenn had was his one pair off dress socks, black and thick and probably too heavy, but he put them on anyways, slipping into his Converse before leaving.

          

* * *

 

           The coffee shop was crowded when Glenn arrived, every table full and a line almost to the door. Glenn stood awkwardly between a hipster couple wearing matching plaid and an old woman complaining about the long wait. Daryl was bustling about behind the counter, red visor long forgotten though the apron remained, stained with coffee. A pretty girl with blonde, curly hair was at the register handling the money and calling out orders. Glenn could see Daryl moving with practiced ease, pouring coffee and mixing scalding hot milk, doing things one-handed that Glenn probably couldn’t do with two.

            “Hey Short Round,” Daryl called, seeming to brighten a bit, “you just get yer lazy ass out of bed?”

            “First day off in a while. I’m trying to enjoy it.”

            Daryl chucked and Glenn watched as he made a grande white mocha flawlessly. Glenn gazed at Daryl’s hands as the man worked, realizing how fluid and confident he was with his task.

            “-cream?”

            Glenn realized belatedly that Daryl was talking to him. “Sorry-what?”

            “I asked if you wanted whipped cream.”

            “Oh, sure.” Glenn replied, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

            Daryl pulled a large metal canister from the fridge, shaking it a few times. Twirling it in his hand in a complicated-looking gesture so the nozzle was face-down, Daryl swirled a generous helping of cream atop Glenn’s drink, drizzling it with white chocolate and caramel with a flourish.

            “Thanks,” Glenn said with a grin, taking the hot drink from Daryl’s rough hands.

            With a nod Glenn started to walk away, planning on walking around the city since there were no seats available. He stopped when Daryl called after him.

            “Hey kid!” Daryl yelled, but didn’t stop working.

            Glenn turned, “Yeah?”

            “I get off in ten if you want to wait around?”

            “Sure,” Glenn’s stomach growled, “want you grab some lunch?”

            “You read my mind, Chinaman.”

            “Dixon!” The girl at the register gasped at the comment.

            “What?” Daryl barked.

            “You can’t say things like that.”

            Daryl scoffed, “I’ll say what I damn well want. Kid don’ mind.”

            “I don’t,” Glenn confirmed, “but for the last time, I’m _Korean_.”

* * *

            Glenn sat on the curb while he waited for Daryl, stretching his legs out as far as he dared, careful to not get run over by a car. The sun was hot despite the November chill and as Glenn basked in it he had to shove the sleeves of his hoodie up to gain relief. People were out enjoying one of the last days of the season before the chill set in, traffic and chatter loud and Glenn closed his eyes to take it all in. Daryl had said many times he didn’t like the volume of the city but Glenn found it comforting, relaxing, even, and the bustling about of people and cars soothed him into a lull.

            “What the hell’re you doin’, kid?” Glenn jumped at the sound of Daryl’s voice behind him, “Meditatin’ or somethin’?”

            “Just enjoying the day,” Glenn stood, sipping the last of his coffee.

            “You mean this racket?” Daryl looked at him skeptically, running a hand through his already mussed hair.

            “It’s not _racket_ , country boy.” Glenn teased as they started walking nowhere in particular, “So what do you want to eat?”

            “Anythin’ kid, I ain’t picky,” Daryl paused, “but I _am_ starvin’ so pick fast.”

            Glenn thought for a moment, taking their current location into account, “How about hot dogs?”

            “Fine with me, Chinaman.”

            “I know a place, come on.”

            Glenn didn’t think anything of it when he grabbed Daryl’s forearm to tug him around a corner and down a narrow side street. They had gone half a block before Glenn realized his grip and, remembering Daryl’s aversion to touch, let go as quickly as possible.

            Glenn hastily apologized.

            “‘S alright.” Daryl said, adjusting the collar of his shirt absently.

            Glenn cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing at Daryl to ensure he hadn’t offended the man; when he was positive all was well they continued on. The two make small talk, mostly about Glenn’s classes and Daryl’s work, and avoided running into the other people venturing the sidewalks. The farther they walked the hotter Glenn got, feeling the beginnings of sweat gathering on his body. With a hum, he unzipped his hoodie a little more, enjoying the breeze nipping at the small expanse of skin he had just exposed.

            “You forget yer shirt somewhere?” Daryl asked sarcastically.

             “It’s my day off,” he defended, “I can’t go out in my boxers, so I’m going to be as comfortable as I can be.”

            Daryl just grunted, eyeing Glenn’s chest one more time before complaining, “Where the hell is this joint? You takin’ me back to yer homeland or somethin’?”

            Glenn snorted on a laugh, “My home- are you for real? No, I’m not taking you to _Korea_ , I’m taking you two blocks that way.” He pointed in front of them.

            Daryl kicked an empty glass Coke bottle and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Whatever you say, kid.”

            The hot dog place was a hole in the wall, so small you’d pass right by it unless you knew it was there (Glenn had walked past it regularly for months before he noticed it himself). The door was only wide enough to fit one person and there was no sign to indicate what the building actually was. Daryl raised a skeptical eyebrow but followed Glenn in anyways. Inside consisted of a countertop so tall it reached the middle of Glenn’s chest and behind that a small kitchen, and one lonely worker. Glenn had only seen two people working before; an elderly lady named Rose and her grandson, Jeremy.

            “Glenn!” Jeremy greeted loudly, pushing the brim of his red visor out of his eyes.

            “Hey, man.” Glenn leaned against the counter.

            “Haven’t seen you in here in a while,” Jeremy observed, “How’s Jake?”

            Glenn felt Daryl stiffen beside him.

            “We broke up months ago.”

            Jeremy looked at Glenn for a moment before grinning, “Good. That guy was a dick.”

            Glenn chuckled and heard Daryl mumble something that sounded none too kind.

            “So is this your new boyfriend?” Jeremy asked politely, looking Daryl up and down.

            “No!” Glenn exclaimed, blushing, “No, this is Daryl, my roommate.”

            “I’m sorry, man,” Jeremy said to Daryl, “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just assumed.”

            “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” was all Daryl said, shoulders hunching slightly.

            “You don’t look his type anyways,” Jeremy teased Glenn, “he likes those _pretty_ boys.”

            Glenn thought for sure Daryl was going to take offense to that but instead he deadpanned, “Ain’t you pretty enough, boy?”

            Jeremy slapped his hand on the counter and doubled over in a fit of giggles.

            “Alright,” Jeremy sucked in a deep breath, “What can I get you guys?”

            “I’ll have my usual,” Glenn said.

            “I’ll have three hot dogs,” Daryl began and Glenn gawped, “One with chili, cheese and mayo.” Daryl squinted at the menu taped to the wall, moving closer with a curse, “One with slaw, onions, and chili; and the last one with just ketchup and mustard.”

            “Would you like chips and a drink with that?”

            “You got beer?” Daryl asked seriously.

            “I _wish_.”

            “Find, I’ll take a mellow yellow then, and a bag of Doritos.”

            Glenn and Daryl talked with Jeremy while he prepared their food, placing each hot dog in individual paper wrappings. There wasn’t seating inside or outside of the shop so they took their orders to go, bidding Jeremy farewell before Glenn led them to a bench he occasionally napped on between classes. Thankfully no one was sitting on it, and Daryl stared at the art painted on and carved into the wood; someone had decorated the bench with bright yellows and lively blues, an abstract array of colors and designs that Glenn had always found pleasant to look at.

            Glenn was happy when Daryl ran an appreciative hand over the creation.

            They sat side by side, just close enough for their knees to occasionally brush, watching people pass as they ate. They were quiet save for Daryl’s soft moans after each bite and the sound of him sucking sauce off his thumb.

            Glenn was about to speak when Daryl’s phone rang.

            “What d’you want, Merle?” He growled into the phone, setting his last hot dog on the bench next to him.

            Glenn shifted uncomfortably while Daryl listened to whatever his brother was saying, concerned when Daryl’s eyebrows knit together.

            “I don’ have the money to bail yer ass out, Merle.” Daryl said, rubbing at his eyes. He listened for another second. “ _Fine_. I’ll be there as soon as I can, you fuckin’ bastard.”

            He snapped his phone shut, hand clenching around it while Glenn was fairly certain he was seconds away from throwing the phone into the street.

            “Everything alright?” Glenn ask hesitantly, not wanting to intrude.

            “Merle got arrested again,” Daryl shook his head, “Got picked up last night fer makin’ an ass of himself at some bar.”

            “So what are you going to do?”

            “He says he’s got some cash stashed at his place. I got to go get it and bail his lazy ass out of jail. _Again_.” Daryl spat the last word venomously.

            “Well,” Glenn said, stretching his arms above his head, “You want some company?”

            Daryl glanced sidelong at him, “You sure you wanna go out in the cut?”

            “The cut?”

            “You know, out in the middle of nowhere? Merle don’ live in the city.”

            “So I’ll get to see where you grew up?” Glenn asked, curiosity peaked. 

            “It ain’t nothin’ special, kid,” Daryl warned, “I didn’ have no white picket fence, if you know what I mean?”

            “The farthest I’ve ever been out of the city is Brent’s vacation house, I’d like to see it.”

            “Suit yourself, kid, let’s go.” Daryl stood, eating his final hot dog as he walked away.

            Glenn followed.

* * *

 

            Glenn was sprawled out across the seat of Daryl’s truck, legs stretched out in front of him, head leaning against the cool glass of the window. Johnny Cash was crooning softly through the speakers, an old cassette tape Glenn had laughed at when he first saw it, not remembering the last time he had seen an _actual_ tape. His rough voice lulled Glenn into a light sleep, Daryl’s humming enough to make his eyes slip shut. Daryl’s eyes were on the road, one arm dangling carelessly out his window. Just when Glenn was about to nod off, a woman started singing along with Jonny Cash, a song Glenn had never heard before and didn’t recognize.  

            _I never thought that night we parted_

            _That life without you would be this bad_

            Glenn couldn’t help but think the song was beautiful despite how sad it was.

* * *

 

            The town they drove into had no stoplights, and only one stop sign; Glenn didn’t know places like this existed outside of movies, so void of large buildings and full of large, sprawling fields. There were trees and meadows everywhere, pastures full of cows and animals Glenn honestly couldn’t name, though he thought he had seen a donkey. When they drove through what Glenn assumed was the “downtown” area, people stopped and stared, shielding their eyes against the sun. A few people pointed, talking amongst themselves.

            Daryl groaned.

            “This town’s full of gossips. Word’s gonna spread that I’m back ‘fore we even get there.”

            “Why are they so interested?”

            Daryl smirked, “You don’ know what kinda name us Dixon boys have made fer ourselves around here.”

            “Do I even want to know?”

            “Probably not.”

            “That’s what I thought.”

* * *

 

            The house they pulled up to looked more like a doublewide with a few extensions added on. It was a little run down but not as shabby as Glenn had been expecting. The door was on the side of the house, leading to a concrete porch of sorts covered with a shoddy tin roof. There were a few chairs and a workbench covered chaotically with tools, rusty chains hanging from various hooks and what looked like a tree stand attached to a crooked post. A pickup even older than Daryl’s was in the driveway, hood open as if someone had been tinkering around but no one was in sight.

            “God _damn_ it!” Daryl snarled, thumping an angry fist against the steering wheel.

            “What is it?” Glenn asked, looking around.

            “Jesus Christ,” Daryl cursed again, unhooking his seatbelt, “Stay here, kid. I mean it.

            Daryl exited the truck without an explanation, slamming the door. Glenn called after him but Daryl didn’t turn and even though Glenn was tempted to follow he decided it best to stay put. Daryl disappeared into the house and Glenn waited anxiously, straining his ears for any unusual sounds. He sat there for so long he lost track of time, trying to play Words With Friends but his phone kept losing signal.

            A sudden crash had Glenn’s head snapping up in alarm, hands immediately going to his seatbelt. Another crash sounded, and Glenn heard someone shouting, followed by glass shattering. An older man with thin, gray hair and a mix of Merle and Daryl’s features clumsily walked down the front steps, a bottle of brown liquor in his hand.

            “You worthless piece of shit!” He yelled, grabbing a hammer that was resting on the workbench.

            Daryl came out of the house then, blood running down his face from what looked like a deep gash above his left eyebrow. He looked angry, slinging a black duffle bag over his shoulder. 

            “I ain’t the piece of shit, old man!” Daryl countered, wiping blood from his eye.

            “Yer just like yer mama,” The man -who could only be Daryl’s father- bellowed, “Useless, good-fer-nothin’ white trash!”

            Before Glenn could process what was happening, Daryl’s dad was raising his arm to chuck the hammer at Daryl’s head. Glenn yelled, watching as the tool missed its mark and slammed into Daryl’s right shoulder instead, sending him stumbling back into the doorframe. Glenn moved before he could stop himself, exiting the truck to run to Daryl’s aid.

            “I told you to stay in the truck!” Daryl roared, stopping Glenn in his tracks.

            “What’s this gook doin’ on my property?” Daryl’s dad slurred.

            “This ain’t yer house no more,” Daryl said, rotating his shoulder with a wince.

            “Get this chink-eyed mother fucker outta my sight!”

            Glenn took a few steps back when the old man grabbed another, larger hammer. His arm was drawing back when Daryl surged forward, knocking both the bottle and the hammer from his father’s grasp, sending them both crashing into the table; the posts wobbled but it held up against their weight. In a surprising display of strength, the man shoved Daryl off of him, hands going to unbuckle his belt. It took a moment for everything to click into place but when he saw Daryl stiffen and stop moving altogether, Glenn realized what Daryl’s father was planning on doing with the belt.

            Cautiously, Glenn moved to Daryl’s side, grasping his elbow firmly but gently. He pulled, pretending not to notice when Daryl flinched, and was grateful when Daryl moved with him. The old man started laughing when Daryl turned his back to him.

            “Run away like the bitch that you are!” He yelled after them.

            Daryl didn’t respond.

            “Keep walkin’, boy! You were never like Merle, always pussy-footin’ ‘round like yer somethin’ special. But you ain’t, Daryl, yer _nothin’_ , an’ yer no son o’ mine.”

            He was still shouting when they climbed back into the truck.

            Daryl tossed the duffle bag into the backseat before slamming the truck into drive, peeling out of the driveway in a cloud of dust.

            Daryl didn’t say a word until they were back on the highway.

            “I told you to stay in the car.” Daryl’s voice was low and too calm.

            Glenn wished he would yell.

            “Dude, he threw a _hammer_ at you!” Glenn tried to reason.

            “He woulda done a lot worse to you.”

            “Why? Because I’m Asian?”

            “Yer damn right, that’s why!” Daryl’s anger was slowly returning. “Next time I tell you to stay put, for fucks sake, _stay put_.”

            Daryl reached across Glenn to pop open the glove compartment, pulling out a crumpled pack of Camels and an old Zippo that looked well-used and well-loved.

            “I didn’t know you smoked?” Glenn stupidly commented, unsure what else to say.

            “I don’ unless idiots like you stress me out.”

            He stuffed a cigarette into his mouth, flicking open the Zippo and lighting it one-handed against his thigh. Daryl breathed deeply, exhaling a moment later through his nose. He seemed to calm some, body sagging against his seat.

            “I’m gonna kill Merle when we get him. That bastard knew our old man was there and didn’ tell me.”

            Glenn didn’t know what to say so he stayed silent.

* * *

 

            Glenn was a little gob smacked when he saw the stacks of cash Daryl took out of the duffle bag, counting out the exact amount they needed to get Merle. He pocketed a few bills and handed some to Glenn, “Fer all that bullshit,” Daryl said, smirking. Glenn took the cash disbelievingly, happy but worried what Merle might do if he found out.  They were parked in front of the county Sheriff’s department a few counties over and Glenn wondered exactly how Merle had wound up there. Daryl heaved a great sigh, eyeing the building with distain.

            “Let’s get this over with.” He said, getting out of the truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that I've now reached over 100 reviews! (over on ff.net) Just wow. Thank you all SO SO much. I've never gotten that many reviews for a story before, so I'm over the moon. I PROMISE to not leave you guys hanging so long next time. Please review and let me know what you think. Suggestions, requests, and constructive criticism are all welcome.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. If the boys were mine this story is exactly how the show would have happened.
> 
> A/N: First chapter is a bit short but I actually have quite a bit of this written already. Inspiration struck randomly a while ago and I've been going crazy since. PLEASE review and let me know what you think. I so appreciate it.


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